


Between One and Two in the Morning

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, Mycroft (19), Mycroft is not quite sure what's going on, Sherlock (12), Sherlock just wants to see his brother come apart before him, Sleep Sex, Underage Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Wet Dream, blowjob, holmescest, it's not really consensual, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock can't sleep, so he goes to Mycroft's room in the hopes that being near the man will calm him enough for his body to do just that. He certainly didn't expect to end up watching Mycroft having a wet dream, or to find himself lending a <strike>hand</strike> mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between One and Two in the Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsonlyforevernotlongatall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsonlyforevernotlongatall/gifts).



Ten minutes past one in the morning. Sherlock couldn't sleep. He had tried counting sheep, listing all the elements on the periodic table – three times – and playing the static track Mycroft had put on his mp3 player. But none of it worked and Sherlock's mind was still as alert as it had been at nine o'clock.

Being alert at night in their house was never a good thing. He wasn't allowed to conduct experiments or he got in trouble from Father and if he turned a light on to do more studying he would be discovered as well. So he had to lie in his bed, boredom becoming oppressive.

On this particular night, however, he had had enough. The clock beside his bed ticked over to eleven minutes past one and Sherlock pushed his sheets back to swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand up. He made his way from his room quietly, leaving all light switches as they were as he padded down the corridor and found Mycroft's room.

Mycroft would be asleep, of course, but Sherlock only needed his company. He would never admit it to his face, but Mycroft made him feel safe and calm. Sherlock was hoping in this instance that his older brother would be able to help him get to sleep.

When he entered Mycroft's room, Sherlock went straight to his desk and sat down on the chair, staring at the dark shape in the bed and feeling his muscles relaxing already. A chair was not the most comfortable choice to sleep in, but Sherlock was fairly certain that if he tried to curl up with Mycroft in his bed, the young man would wake up and ask what was wrong. The chair would have to do, then. Sherlock wiggled around a bit before settling and allowing his eyes to drift over Mycroft's form.

The longer he stared, the more absurd Mycroft appeared. The dark shapes in the room began to trick Sherlock's eyes into thinking he could see three arms, five legs and many other odd lumps over the man's body. It was a good twenty minutes later when Sherlock found himself blinking his eyes heavily, trying to continue staring at Mycroft but being pulled steadily towards sleep.

That was when it happened.

Mycroft's body shifted, a soft moan leaving his lips as he did something which Sherlock couldn't see from his angle. The room was silent for another few moments before Mycroft began to breathe heavily, his body now shifting constantly.

Curious and fully awake again, Sherlock got up from the chair and took a step towards his brother, wondering whether these signs were the beginning of a nightmare. Mycroft had never said anything about having nightmares, though.

After a few minutes of Mycroft making a few more quiet moans, Sherlock decided to move even closer. He still couldn't see what Mycroft's body was doing and was certain that if he did see, the whole situation would finally make sense in his mind. So he moved to stand right beside the bed, looking down at his brother and clearly seeing now that the movements were of Mycroft's hips, rotating against the bed and creating friction.

Sherlock knew of wet dreams and had even experienced a few himself, so he was quick to realise what was going on once he could see the full movements Mycroft was making. Intrigued rather than embarrassed, Sherlock leant slightly closer to observe his brother's face and noted the open mouth and roaming eyes beneath his eyelids.

It never occurred to Sherlock that watching something like this would be considered an invasion of privacy. Instead, he was contemplating whether he would be able to turn his brother over to observe the state of his erection without waking him up.

He felt very lucky indeed when all he had to do was reach out and touch his brother's shoulder before the man was turning over and moaning to the ceiling, his hand reaching between his legs to continue rubbing gently.

Sherlock inched the covers down Mycroft's body slowly, taking the risk because he was far too curious for his own good. He wanted to see as much as he could. He never saw Mycroft with his defences down when the man was awake. If Sherlock could have entered Mycroft's mind to see what he was dreaming about he would have, but he would have to make do with observing his body.

Once Mycroft's entire body was revealed, Sherlock stared openly. His brother was rubbing at his erection through his pyjama bottoms, his breathing still heavy and the occasional moan spilling forth. His face was flushed as well, Sherlock noticed, and his tongue slipped from his mouth a few times to wet his lips.

Another few minutes passed and Mycroft seemed no closer to an actual orgasm, meaning Sherlock was growing bored again. He didn't want to wait here forever, but he wasn't planning on giving up and going back to bed without seeing the conclusion either. He needed to seize the opportunity which had presented itself to him since he had no idea how long it would be until it happened again.

So without any hesitation, Sherlock climbed onto the bed and settled his legs on either side of Mycroft's, far enough down so that he could still see his brother's hand as it rubbed incessantly. He paused to make sure his movement hadn't woken his brother up before reaching to carefully pull at Mycroft's trousers, easing them down just enough to free his swollen member.

As Sherlock pushed Mycroft's hand away and took his brother's erection in his own, Mycroft let out a quiet whimper before whispering, "Please." At first Sherlock thought he had woken Mycroft up, but as he stayed still with his hand on his brother, it became clear that the young man was still asleep.

Sherlock had never done anything like this before, but he knew enough theory to give it an attempt. He wanted to see Mycroft orgasm, but was certain that at the pace his brother had been going he would have had to wait hours until it happened. Which was why he was taking things into his own hands – literally.

He began slowly, speeding up his movements as he grew more confident and watching Mycroft's face to see if he was doing well. If the increased breathing and more frequent moans were anything to go by, Sherlock was pretty sure he was doing a much better job than Mycroft could do on his own.

Sherlock still wasn't expecting it, however, when Mycroft spoke again. Only a murmur of inaudible words at first, but gradually they began to make sense. "Harder. _Yes_ , please. Mm... suck. Ah-" Mycroft cut his own words off with another moan as Sherlock's hand slipped and brushed over the head of his member.

 _Suck_.

Clearly something was happening in Mycroft's dream which he liked a lot. That knowledge alone was enough for Sherlock as he looked down at the red erection in his hand again and began lowering his head until his mouth was inches away. He felt a tremble of excitement rush through his body as his lips touched the head and he flicked his eyes back up to see Mycroft's mouth open wider and make a nice 'o'.

Distracted as he was, Sherlock was caught off guard when Mycroft bucked his hips up and forced his member into Sherlock's mouth at the same time as one of his hands grabbed the back of Sherlock's head to hold him in place. Mycroft's other hand had fisted in the sheets beneath him, knuckles turning white from desperation.

Gagging slightly, Sherlock pushed against Mycroft's stomach to try and be let up, but right before he could get his lips off of Mycroft's member the hand on his head pushed him back down and he gagged a second time. He wasn't frightened – he was just _uncomfortable_.

Nevertheless, Sherlock hadn't forgotten what Mycroft had mumbled in his sleep and, once he stopped trying to fight against Mycroft's thrusts into his mouth, began to suck. The effect was immediate, Mycroft thrusting faster and moaning with abandon. Sherlock managed to look up at the man's face again, feeling smug as he could see every feeling and emotion on display. He soaked it up, feeling closer to Mycroft than he ever had and working even harder to bring his brother to completion.

The orgasm arrived with a jerk, tensing up Mycroft's entire body and consequently making the man pull harder on Sherlock's hair as the pleasure rippled through him. The boy kept his eyes fixed to his brother's face, still sucking when the member in his mouth finally shot its load down his throat. Not all of it went where he had hoped and he yanked Mycroft's hand off his head quickly, pulling off of his brother's deflating member to cough into the silence of the room – empty of Mycroft's moans now that it was over.

As Sherlock looked down at Mycroft's clear blue eyes, he decided that this was something he would have to make sure happened again. He could still hear Mycroft's moans and cries in his head and didn't think he would ever forget them. Watching Mycroft come apart at his hands was one of the most beautiful things he had ever experienced. So beautiful, in fact, that it had momentarily stunned Sherlock's own senses and the boy didn't realise Mycroft was awake until he was pushing into a sitting position and grabbing Sherlock's wrist tightly.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Mycroft hissed, the pleasure gone from his face to be replaced by anger, fear and... _disgust_.

"You asked me to." A half-truth, since Mycroft obviously hadn't been meaning to ask his _younger brother_ for the things he wanted, but Sherlock latched onto the words for comfort. Mycroft looked so upset with him right now, his grip even tighter than when he had to reprimand Sherlock for breaking something.

Mycroft looked over their positions again, a sliver of confusion showing in his eyes which he couldn't hide in his still-waking state. Sherlock could tell he was still trying to piece together exactly what happened and licked his lips subconsciously.

"Get off me," Mycroft demanded after assessing the situation, letting go of Sherlock's wrist so that the boy could do as he was told. When Sherlock didn't move right away, Mycroft pushed him forcefully until he had to get off and stand beside the bed again. "I asked you what you were doing."

"I couldn't sleep," Sherlock said truthfully, sliding one hand up and down his arm as he was beginning to feel cold without his brother's body heat beneath him. "Then you started to... And I just wanted to help."

"What was happening was private, Sherlock," Mycroft replied sternly. Belatedly, he reached for his trousers and pulled them back up over his hips. "Certainly not something for two brothers to do together."

"I didn't realise it would upset you. I told you, I was just trying to help."

"Well, next time you want to help, try _thinking_ before doing something so stupid."

"But you wouldn't let go!" Sherlock snapped. "You pulled my hair and shoved your cock down my throat!"

Mycroft was shocked into silence firstly by Sherlock's vulgar language and secondly by the _words_. Sherlock could see the questions spinning beneath the surface of Mycroft's neutral mask. _Did I really? Did I hurt you? Why didn't you wake me up sooner and make me stop?_ Twisting the truth was doing wonders for Sherlock.

"Are you alright?" was what Mycroft asked aloud, and Sherlock nodded his head. There was a brief pause before Mycroft sighed and beckoned Sherlock close again, shifting over on the bed to make room. "Come here. I'm sorry I got angry with you."

Sherlock mumbled, "It's fine," as he crawled onto the bed and lay beside Mycroft, avoiding his gaze in a subtle attempt to gain more sympathy from him.

Mycroft slid an arm under Sherlock's shoulders and glanced at his clock, noting that the time was just after two. "No one can find out what happened, do you understand?" he asked gently, looking down at Sherlock and waiting for Sherlock to return his gaze. When the boy finally did look up at Mycroft, he nodded. "And it can never happen again, is that clear? I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself if the need arises in the future."

"Alright, fine," Sherlock agreed grumpily, trying to sink down lower on the bed but being kept in place by Mycroft's arm. "Even if it takes seven hours, I'll let _you_ deal with your arousal."

Mycroft chuckled at Sherlock's mood before pressing a kiss to the boy's forehead. "Go to sleep, Sherlock. That is what you originally came in here for, isn't it?"

"Yes," Sherlock confirmed, rolling onto his side and wrapping an arm around his brother's waist. "Good night," he said softly, closing his eyes.

As he heard Mycroft echoing back the phrase, Sherlock tucked his head against his brother's side and allowed himself to smile.

He had no intentions of letting this be a one-off.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're excitedly hoping that there will be more written to go along with this fic in the future, I need you to listen very carefully...
> 
> That's the sound of all your hopes being strangled to death.


End file.
